


What Happens When A Certain Consulting Detective Gets Bored

by The_Gay_Infiltrator



Series: 24 Days of Fanfic for Cowgirlchica [4]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: AKA no Moriarty, AU where nothing that went wrong goes wrong, I have no excuse for this, I’m a bad person I know, M/M, Make Up Your Own Ending, Mycroft is a sneaky bastard, but we all know what happened, emojis don't show up on John's phone, except for Buckingham Palace because YES, no AGRA, none of that bad shit, short and smutty-ish, side mention of Mystrade, so they're black boxes, texting mostly, the obligatory text fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Gay_Infiltrator/pseuds/The_Gay_Infiltrator





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cowgirlchica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirlchica/gifts).



You have entered your conversation with Sherlock.

 

Sherlock: John.  
Sherlock: John.  
Sherlock: John!  
Sherlock: John, come home! I’m bored.  
You: Okay, okay! God! I’m coming as fast as I can!  
Sherlock: ◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️  
You: What are those boxes? Is it a code?  
Sherlock: ...right.  
You: I’ll be home in 15 minutes. Try not to blow anything up.  
Sherlock: Alright, alright. I’ll wait for you to blow up ;)  
You: You better.  
Sherlock: Or what?  
Sherlock: ...Captain?  
You: Or I’ll have to punish you.  
Sherlock: How, exactly?  
Sherlock: In detail, please ;)  
You: Well…  
Mycroft Holmes #13: Please refrain from describing the nature of your sex life over texts I am monitoring.  
You: Sod off, Mycroft.  
You: Go flirt with Greg or something.  
You: Although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…  
Sherlock: Brother mine, I suggest you stop monitoring our texts.  
Mycroft Holmes # 13: Pray tell why, brother mine?  
Sherlock: Because if you don’t, I am going to describe in explicit detail JUST what John did after Buckingham Palace.  
Mycroft Holmes #13: That would not be very beneficial to you, brother mine.  
Sherlock: It started as soon as we were in the cab on the way back to Baker Street.  
You: Our cab driver was made quite uncomfortable.  
Sherlock: Very.  
Sherlock: By the way, she is secretly in the closet, but pretends to be homophobic to hide it.  
Sherlock: Not to get off topic, though.  
Sherlock: Mycroft, this is your last chance to leave before I go into detail.  
Mycroft Holmes #13: Very well.  
You: Mycroft, before you go.  
Mycroft Holmes #13: Yes, John, what is it?  
You: Take the cameras I’m 90% sure you have hidden in our flat out.  
Mycroft Holmes #13: Fine.  
You: Thank you.  
Sherlock: Mycroft?  
You: I think he’s gone.  
Sherlock: I believe he is.  
Sherlock: ◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️  
You: Sherlock I can’t read those.  
Sherlock: Sorry, I keep forgetting.  
Sherlock: You were saying about punishment?  
You: Have you been bad?  
Sherlock: *image downloading*  
You: Very bad.  
You: Very bad indeed…  
Sherlock: How bad? ;)  
You: You’ll see ;)  
You: Take off all your clothes, go into the bedroom, and lie there and wait for me.  
Sherlock: Am I allowed to touch myself?  
You: I’ll be home in 5 minutes. Have yourself prepped by then.  
Sherlock: Understood, Captain.

 

John walked down the street, trying to hide his boner (and ignore the weird looks he was getting as he half-ran to Baker Street). When he got there, he quickly shed his shoes and coat, and went into the bedroom. As per instructions, Sherlock was in there, stripped. His pale globe of an arse was raised in the air (making John even harder) as he rocked back on the three fingers he’d gotten up to in five minutes. A bottle of lube lay by his other hand, which was clenched in the covers so tight his knuckles were turned white. His knees trembled as he pumped his fingers in and out, the tiniest whimpers slipping out of his lips. His cock hung heavy between his spread legs. John unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, a smirk adorning his face. “Sherlock.” he said, snapping the detective out of the euphoric world he was in.  
Sherlock just smirked, noticing John’s (quite obvious, really) arousal. John climbed onto the bed, laying sherlock flat out under him. “Shall we see how many times I can take you to the edge?” John whispered, eyes half-lidded in lust.  
Sherlock nodded eagerly, and John smirked as he slid a blindfold over Sherlock’s eyes. It would be quite some time before they emerged again.

 

Meanwhile, downstairs, Mrs. Hudson just got her earplugs and kept reading.


End file.
